Granted I can’t see the shards that pierce your heart ; But I can feel the pain.
Don’t sit there all alone on the island of your sorrow ; Hold my hand.
I promise I won’t ask anything – the pregnant silence has a story to tell.
Let’s just sit here together and care and share.

Friday, August 28, 2009

I was taking up the Myer Briggs assessment for an interview. The Myer Briggs test is a psychometric test which is designed to test how you react to various situations and your decision making abilities in different circumstances.

I was going through the maze of questions , each question repeated in ten different ways so as to get the most authentic answers

As I finished the test and collected my things to leave, the lady at the counter smiled and me and said, “ Thanks young man. We will get back to you.”

I was taken aback. Young man! Then I again looked at her. She looked a ripe sixty or more.

The West and the East have different ways of looking at age. In the West it is just a number. In the East it is more than that.

I remember a young Indian lady who became my fan after reading my blog and started chatting regularly. One day she thanked me for some advise and cutely said she loved me. I was flattered. Her next comment brought me crashing down. She said I reminded of her father. I asked her how old is he? She replied dead pan , “70.” Thanks young lady you made my day!

Another time I was having dinner with some young Indian students in Virginia. We were in a Mexican restaurant and had already knocked off a few margaritas. We ordered delicious chimichangas. The portions were sumptuous. I was unable to finish it. A kind hearted but concerned student from Kolkata enquired if I was unable to finish it because I was oldie or I was avoiding cos i was fatty. I knew he meant no disrespect.

I looked at him again. He was definitely heavier than me by a few stones. And I was going to the gym regularly.

I remembered my neighbor who was a good friend of mine. He was a single parent and so sometimes I used to help him in picking or dropping his twelve year old son Ralph.

Ralph was a chatter box. He had lots of stories to share. His school, his studies, his teachers and his girl friends. But he used to sternly warn me, “ Look I know you are my dad’s friend. But you are my friend too. So you better keep this a secret.”

I had to cross my heart several times.

There was a swamiji I met a few years before. He had said that you can find your mirror image in the nature. I had jocularly asked him if I could look in some four legged animal. He stared at me long and then replied , TREES!.” I asked which one. He waved me off saying go find it our yourself. I am imagining. How these folks would see me? The pretty girl would see me in a Bunyan tree. The Bengali boy would look for something equally old but with a girth.